The One With Power
by SimpleBeauty01
Summary: A YOUNG MAN AND BOY JOURNEY TOGETHER FOR THEY ARE GIFTED WITH SPECIAL POWERS.


**Prologue**

Chocolate. Hallelujah, Mitch Savet could hear angels singing from heaven. Mitch gulped and squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the image of sweet, creamy chocolate melting in his mouth. It was too much for him; his stomach squealed into overdrive. Just a little piece, he told himself, anyway, who could possibly notice a bar of chocolate missing? He extended his arm; his fingertips brushing the smooth, cold glass case that cruelly separated him from a little piece of heaven.  
"Stop!" Mr. Burke stood in front of him, his pudgy features contorted in obvious rage. "Get out! I won't have any thief strolling around in my café."  
Mitch's eyebrows twitched and he whirled around to scan the area behind him,

"Thief! What…Where? Where!"  
Mr. Burke crossed his arms over his chest and glared murderously. Mitch rolled his eyes and whipped out a dollar bill and waved it under the man's nose. "See, dude, I was going to pay!"  
"Dude? _Dude!_ Children these days….in my time they were civilized."  
"Of course…sir." Mitch nodded impatiently.   
Tom Burke instantly brightened. "Did I just hear you call me _sir?_"   
"Yes _sir_."  
Tom beamed and patted Mitch's fine blond hair. Whistling to himself, he unlocked the glass case with the key that always hung from his belt.   
"What chocolate?"  
"A Perko Wonder Bar."  
"Ah" Tom nodded "Everyone gets that nowadays." He set it out on the counter and cleared his throat, "That will be exactly a …."

Mitch was leaning towards him with a charming smile on his face. Tom gulped, never had he seen such beautiful eyes. They were a sky blue shade with flecks of golden that enhanced his exotic dark blue pupils, which, up close looked stunning. Damn. How old was this kid again? Tom wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, unable to break contact with those eyes. Those _goddamn eyes._   
"You wouldn't mind a poor kid taking a chocolate bar for free now would you?" Mitch murmured soothingly.  
Tom choked _how the hell could he refuse?_ "No," he gasped "Take it…just take it."

Mitch smiled._ Damn!_ Tom bit his lip so hard he could taste blood. When that kid smiled it was as if the whole fucking world glowed. Mitch picked up his Wonder Bar and thanked him graciously. Tom didn't know why but he called out to Mitch, as he was leaving, "Visit again soon." Mitch paused at the door knob and smirked knowing that he never would. Tom sighed to himself as he watched Mitch leave, what a cute kid. A few minutes later an anguished cry echoed down the street, and Mitch smirked to himself as he walked along, counting the money from Burke's stolen wallet.

**An Hour Later...**  
"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Mitch froze in fear. Damn, his father was home. He forced a smile and closed the grimy wooden door behind him. His father stood up from the chair he was sitting in, "Goddammit! I asked you a fucking question. I expect an answer!" His words were slurred. Mitch winced "I...I'm s...sorry" His father stumbled across the room and slapped him hard across both his cheeks. The heavy alcohol on his breath caused Mitch to gag.

**Thirty Minutes Later...**

Mitch crawled to his room, choking back the sob that rose in his throat. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He hated his life, hated his father, and most of all _hated_ his mother for leaving him to struggle in this world all alone. He remembered his mother promising him one night that she would always be with him no matter what happened, the next day she was killed by a hit and run driver. His father changed, driven by the madness of his wife's death he began to drink and soon he was an alcoholic. His father was not the kind, and gentle man Mitch knew anymore. Mitch wrapped his arms around himself trying so hard to remember the good times. The times when his father used to be loving and caring...the times where there had been only laughter in his life. He pulled out Mr. Burke's wallet and opened it staring at the picture of the little girl kept in the inner pocket. Guilt cut through him like a knife. His fingers shook...as he stared at the little blond girl in pigtails. This was sooo… sooo... Mr. Burke had a family to feed while here he was holding the money that he had stolen from someone else's hard work. He stared with disgust...this was so _soo…wrong…_

Mitch stuffed the picture of the girl into his back pocket, he didn't know why but he felt the need to keep the picture. Then he quietly crept out of his room, his father sat sprawled on the couch watching a football game. Before Mitch could make a run for the door his father slowly turned around. Mitch desperately tried to stuff his wallet in to his jean pocket. It wouldn't fit. Fuck. His father _saw._  
"What's that your hiding Mitch, huh, speak up boy!"  
"N-Nothing" He stammered.  
David Savet smiled nastily "Nothing," He sneered "Fuck it was something...are you calling me stupid?"  
"N-No" Mitch started to sweat.  
"Well it sure seems like you are...because I said I saw something and your telling me there's nothing.  
His father stood up, his eyes were horribly bloodshot and his face unshaven. He lurched foreword reaching with both hands to grab the wallet out of Mitch's fingers.

"No!" Darius screamed. He jolted up from his narrow bed, his wiry, muscular body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His fingers trembled and his heart pumped wildly. _Dammit,_ he hated these nightmares.

"Mitch," he whispered "Mitch."

Mitch needed his help. He rolled out of bed, pushing away the strands of thick chocolate-colored hair that framed his angular, boyishly handsome face. Duster started frantically barking. Darius shushed him and lovingly rubbed the spot between his dog's ears, and Duster groaned with pleasure. Then, remembering why he woke up in the first place he frantically yanked on his black combat boots. He blindly groped around in the dark trying to find the light, tripping once over his stupid caramel-colored Chiwawa who, inspired by him, was also frantically running around bouncing up and down hysterically until he flicked on the light switch. Darius he found his clothes sprawled messily on the floor and dressed himself in his usual outerwear; a Killer Fee t-shirt, Blackwashed denim jeans, and he always, _always_ wore his tight, black leather bomber jacket. Darius whipped out his dark-tinted Gascon shades; he didn't care that it was still dark outside, he wore his shades 24/7. It was a comfort to him knowing that strangers didn't know his identity when he wore his sunglasses; people always say "Looking into a person's eyes can tell a lot about them."

He opened his apartment door and stealthily crept out towards the exit, his Duster scampering behind him. The last thing he wanted was the gossipy, old landlady waking up to see him heading outside in the early morning. He didn't want her to get the _wrong_ ideas and,_ heck_ spread it to the whole world. She already thought he smoked pot and did drugs, which was more than enough. As soon as Darius was outside in the "safe" territory, he sprinted to his sleek, silver Volvo S60, dived into his car, Duster jumped up on the passenger seat. Then he jammed the key into the ignition and slammed his foot down hard on the accelerator. It was as if he had a compass built in him, he knew exactly where to turn and what street to go on even though he didn't even know where he was going.

"I'm crazy I swear I'm crazy." He mumbled to himself. "What decent guy would be out at this time?"

He glared at the wide deserted road stretching out in front of him, annoyed at being woken up from a decent sleep. Darius shook his head ruefully; he hadn't even seen the boy in his entire life, but he felt that he had known Mitch for a lifetime and the funny, strange need to help him. He suddenly yanked the steering wheel and made a sharp left turn onto a narrow, empty street; a two story, narrow, white grimy house rose up in front of him, just looking at it gave him the chills. He parked his car behind a tree, a reasonable distance behind from the building.

"So," he looked at Duster "I'm going in there and...I want you to stay here because it might be a little dangerous for you."

Duster whined. "Stay." Darius firmly shut the car door behind him and locked the car.

Then cautiously made his way to the front door. Darius pulled out a thin piece of wire that he had hidden in his jacket sleeve earlier and grinned, "Showtime baby!" If there was one thing Darius loved more than his little baby, Duster, it would be pick pocketing. He found it fascinating that a thin wire could easily open a sturdy lock; he also found it useful in times of great need. Inside the house, it was vulgar. The house looked shabby and poor due to the obvious years of neglect and carelessness. The television was turned up too loud, and there, on the couch sat a thin weedy man with a bottle of beer in one hand. Rage and disgust filled him, this _man_ who was supposed to be the Mitch's father was sitting around watching some shitty football game while his son was lying somewhere in the house badly hurt, possibly dead. Darius shook his head and fought back the rage that was threatening to spill...

**NOTE TO ALL YOU READERS:  
Hay ya'll this is only my PROLOGE; I promise I will finish it later when I have the time to do so. If anyone who reads this please review!!! I will bow down to you and kiss your feet. That's how much I need people to review; it will totally make my day because I feel crummy right now. Plzzz review if you want me to continue the story, if no one reviews then it wouldn't be worth the time to keep writing something no one's going to read. Anyone who reviews THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! U HAVE MY LOVE) ! I assure you that, the story will not be as depressing and horrible as this chapter. I'm always trying to improve my writing style, I have a very open mind, supporting suggestions and ratings would be very helpful to me. Thank you all AGAIN!!**


End file.
